please ma’am may I have some trio fluff now? pretty pwease
It ain't much, but it's a lil' something to get back in the trio groove!
Quinn is dead on her feet when she stumbles inside the tent. From the whispers running around the basecamp, it was a rough time in the medical tent. It’s been twelve hours since he last saw her, almost twenty-four since she last slept.
When she crawls inside her sleeping bag, Bucky expects that to be the end of it. Lights out. Instead, she rolls on her back and stares up at the top of the tent.
“Are we going to live in Brooklyn or Kentucky when we go home?” Quinn asks quietly.
The tension slips away from Bucky’s shoulders. He can deal with this. If she doesn’t want to talk about what she saw in that tent, he’s not pushing it right now. “What do you want?”
Her brows furrow. Steve reaches over to rub the wrinkle between them which is what Bucky wanted to do himself. She’s thinking so hard about it and looks cute.
“If I let you pick where we live, I get to choose our kids’ names,” she finally decides.
Bucky feels a spike in the beat of his heart. They’ve never talked about something like this before. Steve’s face is so unbearably soft. He sprawls out next to her, putting his chin on her shoulder, curling that massive body toward her. “That doesn’t seem like an equal exchange,” Steve says with a shy smile.
“I’ll be pushing your fat-headed kids outta me. I should get to pick their name, shouldn’t I?”
Bucky flops down next to her, putting his hand over her belly. “You got this all figured out, huh? Who says we’re having kids? Maybe me and Steve are gonna run off and elope when we get home. Ever think about that?”
“Steve would look pretty in a dress,” she replies thoughtfully. “He’s definitely got the tits for it.”
Steve looks positively scandalized, only getting redder when Bucky and Quinn have a fit of quiet laughter. He rolls over on his back, crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. “I’m not doing shit with you assholes. I’ll run off to France and become a hotshot artist.”
“Fine with me.” Bucky leans in and kisses her cheek. “How many kiddos we havin’, baby doll?”
“Two, at least,” she answers. “I want one that looks like you, Buck. If Steve is amendable to staying with us then I want one that looks like him, too.”
Steve gets that dreamy look in his eyes. Bucky just giggles. “I don’t think you can control who they end up taking after, baby doll.”
“No matter how many we have, I want ‘em all to look like you,” Steve says to Quinn.
“No. You two are gonna make pretty babies, I know it. So, they’ll look like y’all and they can take after my personality.”
“Hell no,” Steve and Bucky reply immediately and at the exact same time.
Seventy years later, nearly ten hours of labor, two of delivery and his vibranium hand hanging on by a thread, and she’s got a baby pressed to her bare chest. Just as she’d been in that tent where they were all daydreaming about this day, she’s exhausted, but refuses to close her eyes.
“Ten more minutes,” Quinn slurs. “You can hold her after, I swear.”
At the foot of the bed, a nurse warmly reminds her, “Why don’t you try to get the baby to latch first, Doctor Hayden?”
“Right,” she agrees hoarsely.
Steve hasn’t stopped staring at the baby in awe, cupping her tiny head in his whole palm. Meanwhile, Bucky is kissing momma’s temple, so fucking thankful that he’s fit to burst. He wants to drop to his knees and weep along with his newborn baby. Fuck. Fuck, they finally did it. They made it.
“What a fucking set of lungs,” Steve whispers.
“Language, Captain Rogers,” the nurse scolds.
Bucky barks out a laugh. To Quinn, he says, “Don’t you worry about us schmucks, okay? Do what you gotta do. We’re here for the ride.” He smirks, but the effect might be lost with how teary-eyed he is. “And since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you pick the name even if you did pick where we settled down.”
Quinn’s head drops back against the pillow. “These nurses know better than to let you run wild.” She smiles, serene and so goddamn beautiful. He didn’t think he could fall more in love with her. “I said it once, I’ll say it again—if I’m pushing your baby outta me, I’m naming ‘em.”
“Anything the wife wants,” he whispers.
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